


The Accidental Love Confession (for the Accidental Girlfriend)

by legendofbisexuals



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa Week, Clexa Week 2021, Day 1 - Accidental Love Confession, F/F, accidental love confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofbisexuals/pseuds/legendofbisexuals
Summary: Some people will swear that falling in love with their partner was fate. While Clarke Griffin had always considered that to be a romantic notion, and had always hoped that one day she may be able to say those cliché words, she also knew the reality of her own relationship; falling in love with Lexa Woods was nothing but the result of a series of several accidents.(Clexa Week 2021, Day 1 - Accidental Love Confession)
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 18
Kudos: 201
Collections: Clexaweek2021





	The Accidental Love Confession (for the Accidental Girlfriend)

Some people will swear that falling in love with their partner was fate. While Clarke Griffin had always considered that to be a romantic notion, and had always hoped that one day she may be able to say those cliche words, she also knew the reality of her own relationship; falling in love with Lexa Woods was nothing but the result of a series of several accidents.

* * *

_ Freshman year, fall semester: _

_ Accidental Boyfriend _

Clarke’s first college party (rather, the first college party she had gone to while  _ being _ in college, herself) was already surpassing her expectations. A low cut shirt, a push-up bra, and tight jeans had already scored her several free drinks and no upperclassmen had stopped to question whether or not she was old enough to be there. Her older junior friend, Raven — a girl she had known from her high school — had been kind enough to invite her along to a homecoming party after seeing Clarke studying alone instead of attending the football game. It had taken some convincing (maybe not  _ too  _ much convincing, as all Raven had to say was, “What, you’re telling me Party Girl Griffin has already become a boring stick in the mud a month into college?”) but from the moment she arrived, Clarke lost herself in the familiar sensations of cheap, burning vodka, thrumming bass-heavy music, and eager hands gripping her waist in dancing which resembled more dry-humping than anything else. 

Clarke vaguely recognized between her third and fourth dance partners — the former, a cute, femme sophomore with long, curled pink hair and the latter, a muscley, tall senior lacrosse player — that her roommate must be worrying where she was, being out so late with no prior warning. Clarke excused herself after dancing with the jockish boy, tipsily steering her way through the living room and out the front door. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, a sigh passing through her lips as the cool autumn air refreshed her sweat-slicked skin. Clarke grimaced as she noticed the time — nearly two in the morning — and rubbed the back of her neck, wondering just how she was going to explain to Octavia that she had ditched their movie night for a frat party. Feeling how damp the back of her neck was, Clarke made a disgusted noise in her throat, shaking the sweat droplets off of her hand. 

“You doin’ alright out here?” 

Clarke jumped at the sudden masculine voice, dropping her phone. “Shit,” she said, wincing as she prayed that the screen hadn’t shattered upon contact with the concrete. The man who had startled her squatted down quickly, reaching for the phone. As he stood, he handed it back to Clarke, his other hand coming to push back some of the long brown hair that had fallen out of place. “Thanks; you scared me.” Clarke said with a small laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the boy said, placing both hands in his jean pockets with a smile. “Are you okay? A girl like you shouldn’t be out here all alone this late, Princess.”

“Princess?” Clarke asked, an eyebrow quirking. 

“Well, you sure look like one,” the boy said, winking at her. “But seriously, the guys in this frat are assholes. I can’t, in good conscience, see a freshie walk outside alone at one of these sleazy parties and  _ not _ go make sure she’s alright.”

Clarke didn’t know whether to feel charmed or offended. On the one hand, she knew how high the rates of sexual assault were for girls on college campuses, especially at parties, and she was grateful that there was at least one guy watching out for her; on the other hand, she was kind of suspicious of said guy for admitting that he had watched her leave a party alone and followed her. 

“Well, thanks, I guess.” She said, looking back down at her phone. Sure enough, as she investigated closer, she had several missed calls, texts, and FaceTimes from Octavia. “Shit, I have to go,” Clarke sighed. “Do you know Raven Reyes?” She asked the boy. “I came here with her, so I don’t want to leave without letting her know.”

He nodded. “Yeah; she’s in one of my classes. I saw her in the backyard, last.” 

“Thanks,” she nodded, “uh…”

“Finn,” the boy said, holding out his hand. “Finn Collins.”

Clarke took his hand, deciding she’d let herself be charmed with this boy, at least for now. “Clarke Griffin.”

* * *

_ Freshman year, spring semester:  _

_ Accidental Tinder Ghosting _

“Clarke, you have to make up your mind: either get over him, or get back under him and accept that you’ll just be a fuckbuddy.” Clarke glared at her roommate, chucking a pillow at her head. Octavia let out an indignant “hey!” as she picked up the heart-shaped throw pillow and tossed it back at Clarke.

“You don’t get it, O, I’m horny  _ and  _ sad,” Clarke sighed. “If I fuck him, I’ll probably just cry thinking about how he dumped me. And then he’ll dump me from being his fuckbuddy for crying about him dumping me for real. And then I’ll just be even  _ more  _ horny and sad.”

“Clarke Griffin  _ crying during sex  _ over a two-month long relationship that ended three months ago?” Octavia laughed. “C’mon, that’s not the Clarke I’ve been best friends with for the last thirteen years. What happened to Miss No Labels?”

“She fell in love with a douchebag,” Clarke said, grumbling as she held the pillow to her chest. “I know he ended up being a shitty guy, but he was…” Clarke trailed off, trying to find a positive word to associate with Finn. At Octavia’s pointed stare, Clarke relented, throwing up her hands. “Fine. He’s a toxic asshole. I know. I deserve better, blah blah, but I just want to feel wanted again, okay?”

“Then go on dates with other people, stupid!” Octavia rolled her eyes. “You’re hot; we go to a school of ten thousand people. I’m sure you can find a suitable fuck for a night or two. Here — give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Shut up and let me handle this!”

By the end of the day, Octavia had set up profiles for Clarke on several dating apps and had decided to take control of Clarke’s “pathetic and sad” dating life, as she called it, swiping left and right on her own volition, not caring what input Clarke gave into the people on the app. Clarke acquiesced her friend, knowing that ultimately, whatever weird matches Octavia made for her could be unmatched later on her own time (if she ever wanted to even go on the apps, in the first place).

A couple of days passed, and curiosity got the best of Clarke. She was surprised to see that so many of the people Octavia had swiped on had matched with her; she wasn’t sure how successful these apps were, after all. She’d never used one before, despite lots of her friends and classmates having used them even in high school with fake ages in their profiles. 

Clarke scanned through her matches, unmatching from multiple conservative-looking men holding fish and/or guns in their pictures, and from multiple girls’ accounts just looking for “a special unicorn” to spend the night with them and their boyfriends. What was left were a couple handfuls of attractive looking men and women alike, and (ultimately feeling a little jaded) Clarke decided to unmatch from the men all together for now. Maybe what she needed wasn’t just a hookup, but a hookup with a girl — something she hadn’t done in a long time. The change of pace would be good for her, she told herself, looking through the remaining five profiles.

A girl named Niylah had messaged her a simple “Hey, cutie :-)” the day prior. Not the most creative, but she was  _ really _ cute and had a large husky in a few of her profile pictures, which scored some extra points in Clarke’s book. She replied to Niylah before going to the next profile.

A cute, mousy girl named Harper had matched with her, but hadn’t sent the first message. Clarke decided to be bold and go for it, sending a message similar to the one she sent Niylah. 

The third profile was a girl named Zoe, and she had messaged Clarke a cheesy pickup line. Clarke snorted at the lameness but responded nonetheless. 

Next was a brunette named Ontari, and though Clarke was a little put off by the girl’s profile, she messaged her. The girl was cute enough, and, after all, she wasn’t looking for her soulmate, here.

Finally, Clarke reached the last non-male, non-bicurious-girl-with-a-crusty-looking-gamer-boyfriend-looking-for-threesome profile left.

_ Lexa, 20.  _

_ Poli-Sci/English pre-law major. _

_ Cat person. Coffee drinker.  _

_ “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” _

Had this been a man’s profile, Clarke would have snorted and called him pretentious. And perhaps there was something pretentious about this girl’s profile, Clarke thought, but she didn’t really get the vibe that this Lexa girl, herself, was pretentious — more that she just seemed quieter and more reserved, judging by her pictures. The first picture was a shot of the girl seated in a coffee shop, black-framed glasses resting on her nose as she gazed down at the book in her left hand, her right hand holding a cup of coffee. It looked, to Clarke’s artistically trained eye, to be a genuine picture of the girl (as she seriously looked zoned out in her book), and not a cliched, posed “candid.” Her next picture was a picture of Lexa smiling widely in what Clarke recognized as the Library of Congress in the capitol. The third and final picture was of Lexa and a cute little black kitten, snuggled up on a green velvet loveseat, yet another book open on Lexa’s lap beside the kitten. 

Clarke had more class than to make a pussy joke for an opener on Tinder, she really did, but she couldn’t help it. This girl was  _ very _ attractive, and Clarke’s brain seemed to short-circuit; her only instinct was to turn into the smooth-talking charmer which had gotten her laid all throughout high school. 

_ An English major and a cat lover? I bet you love an evening filled with books and kitties, huh? You bring the books, I’ll bring my kitty, if you know what I mean ;) _

….but  _ that  _ certainly wasn’t something a charmer would say. Really? That was the  _ best _ she could come up with? Clarke groaned immediately after she sent the message, burying her face in her hands. She hoped she never ran into this girl on campus; if she did, she would have to somehow convince God to smite her right then and there to avoid the agonizing embarrassment which would come from the hot nerdy girl judging her for such a bad attempt at flirting.

So, Clarke was surprised when Lexa actually responded.

A few more days passed, and Clarke exchanged messages with all five girls. She had actually met up with, and hooked up with, Niylah, which had been fun, but their conversations pretty much stopped after their hookup. The conversations with Zoe and Harper had been bland and boring, honestly, and so Clarke ended up letting those texts die out rather quickly. That left Lexa and Ontari.

The former was messaging Clarke at a steady rate, and Clarke couldn’t tell how interested Lexa was. After making such a fool of herself once, she decided to sit back and let Lexa take the reins on their Tinder relationship, which didn’t seem to be going much of anywhere besides messaging back and forth a few times a day. Ontari, on the other hand, seemed  _ very  _ interested, but Clarke still couldn’t shake the strange vibe she got from the girl.

Her bad feeling would reveal itself to be for good reason soon.

About a week after matching with Ontari, Clarke was with Raven in the library. As they were studying, the  _ ping! _ notification from Tinder sounded, and Clarke blushed as she hastily silenced her phone, ignoring the smug smile Raven sent her way. Clarke tried to ignore the phone, but it vibrated again, and she reluctantly picked it up to see who had messaged her.

Raven, being the nibby-nose she was, leaned over to see Clarke’s screen. “Ontari?” She asked, a frown replacing the grin on her face moments prior. “As in Ontari on the softball team?”

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, why?” She asked.

Raven shook her head. “Nothing; I just didn’t know she and Roan Queen broke up.” Raven shuddered. At Clarke’s confused look, Raven continued. “Roan is Professor Queen’s son. From what I hear, Nia is an absolute abuser to her kids and students alike. I hear Ontari abuses Roan, too, that they’re some weird, gross little buddy-buddies with each other. Stay away from that bitch. She’s a bag of cunts with pure evil sprinkled on top.”

“Wait, which one?” Clarke asked.

“Both,” Raven said, turning her attention back to her homework. 

In a few hours, Clarke had Octavia investigate with her. Surely enough, between Facebook and a few tagged posts on Instagram, the roommates deduced that Ontari was still dating Roan, as it seemed, and Clarke was pissed. After a brief fight between the roommates — “I didn’t know she was dating anyone, Clarke! It’s  _ Tinder _ ! You just hook up with people, not vet them on their dating life!” — Clarke had exasperatedly deleted all of the dating apps without a second thought.

* * *

_ Sophomore year, fall semester _

_ Accidental Girlfriend _

Though Clarke hadn’t given much thought to the fact that she had, for all intents and purposes, ghosted Lexa on Tinder, she did realize the consequences of her actions the first time she ran into Lexa on campus in person.

Clarke had been walking out of her first class of the day when she saw the table passing out free snacks and goodie bags. Clarke narrowed her eyes, trying to read the sign from afar. She saw it was the Pride organization on campus, and they were passing out free buttons, as well. She walked a little faster, approaching the table to reach for one of the bisexual pride pins, snapping it onto her bag as she thanked the girl working the table. At the girl’s terse conversation, recognition settled in Clarke’s eyes. 

“Lexa!” Clarke smiled, remembering her name. “How have you been?”

Lexa returned her smile, though Lexa’s looked more like a grimace. “Well, thank you. Yourself?”

Clarke immediately knew Lexa would rather not be talking to her, and Clarke internally cursed herself for having gone radio silent on this goddess before her; but, she was determined not to make that mistake again. 

“So, Pride,” Clarke nodded towards the table. “I’ve considered joining, though I was afraid it would be like high school GSA. Just...drama and fighting and...weird kids with tails and cat ears on,” Clarke laughed. “But if you’re in it, it must be pretty cool after all.” 

Lexa smiled a little at that, now a genuine smile. Suddenly, Clarke felt proud that she had made Lexa react like that. “Well, not to shit on GSAs, but...no, a university pride organization is nothing like that. I should know well, after all, being the vice president of the organization.”

Clarke’s eyes widened a bit at that. “Wow. Busy lady, huh? How do you manage your time between two majors on a pre-law track and running an org?”

Lexa looked down, her cheeks dusting pink. She cleared her throat and looked back up at Clarke, and Clarke suddenly felt her throat go dry at Lexa’s intense gaze. “What, you think I can’t manage my time well between all of my evenings filled with books and... _ kitties _ , Clarke?”

Fuck. Clarke felt her stomach drop; it was a dual reaction, a stomach drop of embarrassment for Lexa bringing up that shamefully awful message, and a stomach drop of arousal from the way Lexa’s lips wrapped around the sound of her name.

Clarke cleared her throat, ignoring how her own cheeks were now mimicking Lexa’s. “Listen...I’m sorry about that line, alright?” Clarke laughed. “And sorry about ghosting you on Tinder. I know this will sound cliche to say, but, it wasn’t you.” After a pause, Clarke continued. “Though it wasn’t really  _ me _ , either. It was more my roommate’s fault than anything. But, that’s a long story.”

Lexa softened at Clarke’s words, shoulders relaxing; her eyes moved from Clarke’s down to the table and back once more. “It’s alright. I’m good at handling long stories, Clarke; I’m quite the reader, as you’ve pointed out, yourself,” she couldn’t help but tease again. “Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner tonight?”

...

From tacos at a local Mexican restaurant for lunch, to afternoons spent aimlessly walking through the college town mall, to shitty ramen dinners in Lexa’s shittier campus house, Clarke found herself spending most of her free time with Lexa. She hadn’t given much thought to what their relationship exactly was; they weren’t just friends, but they certainly weren’t  _ together _ . Perhaps, Clarke figured, this was all just a really long lead-up to a hookup at worst, a friends-with-benefits situation at best. 

Clarke went to multiple Pride meetings in that time frame. While Clarke superficially stated it was because joining an organization and eventually holding a leadership position would look good on her resume, the reality was that Pride occupied at least two of Lexa’s evenings a week, and now Clarke had an excuse to spend even more time with her. The people at Pride picked up on the behavior between the two girls, and soon Clarke and Lexa found their flirtation to be at the center of a lot of jokes and teasing.

Their first kiss happened as they were getting ready for Pride’s Halloween party. Not wanting to arrive too early, the two settled down in Lexa’s room and flipped on the TV, occupying their time aimlessly scanning channels as they sipped on their beers. Being such a small room in a university house, the only place for them to sit together was on Lexa’s bed. Clarke eventually set her drink down on Lexa’s side table and scooted herself downwards a bit, shimmying as she rested her head on Lexa’s pillow. Lexa laughed and mimicked Clarke, scooting downward and laying on her side, propping her head up with her hand as her elbow rested on the mattress below. “Getting comfy?”

“Yeah,” Clarke sighed happily, feeling the effect of the few beers she’d had starting to kick in. The two talked in hush tones for a few more minutes, neither paying much attention to the TV, when suddenly, Lexa surged forward, pressing her lips against Clarke’s. Clarke was stunned, her eyes widening, and before she could reciprocate the kiss, Lexa was pulling away. 

“Is that okay? Is that what you wanted?” She asked, quite nervous from her spontaneous decision, and all Clarke could do was bite her lip and nod. Before Lexa could even let out a sigh of relief, Clarke was moving forward quickly, pressing her lips against Lexa’s once more and grabbing the back of the girl’s head, pulling her closer. 

...

While hands and mouths had wandered to throats and stomachs and thighs during heated makeout sessions, neither girl had gone further than that until the weekend after the Halloween party (which, after all, they had missed, due to another, more interesting occurrence coming up). Finally, after a week of sexual tension, Lexa was the one to break.

Her lips were on Clarke’s neck, sucking at pale skin as Clarke panted heavily beneath her. Lexa’s hand made its way into the waistband of Clarke’s jeans, Clarke lifting her hips up in encouragement. Her shirt and bra had already been discarded, nipples already red and swollen from several minutes of torturous teasing. “Are you sure?” Lexa mumbled against Clarke’s skin, and Clarke nodded quickly.

“Please,” she said, her eyes screwing shut and a shaky breath being pulled from her chest as, finally, she felt Lexa’s fingers undo the buttons of her jeans. In moments, Clarke’s jeans were thrown across the room, probably off to join her shirt on Lexa’s desk a few feet away, judging by the sound of clattering pencils and pens falling onto the ground, and Clarke was left in nothing but a small black thong. Lexa exhaled shakily at the sight, kissing her way down Clarke’s stomach, over her hip bones, across the skin barely covered with thin cotton fabric. “Lexa,” Clarke urged her, grabbing a few chestnut curls in a tight grip and pushing Lexa’s head down gently. She lifted her hips once more, now begging, and Lexa looked up, awe in her eyes.

Clarke held onto Lexa tightly, cursing as she felt the warmth of Lexa’s touch spread through her body. The feeling of Lexa’s fingers digging deep into her thighs, the sound of Lexa’s unabashed, soft moans matching her own, the feeling of Lexa’s tongue fluttering over her clit, moving downwards and thrusting up inside of her, repeating the cycle of too much friction and then not enough, the taste of her own lips, nearly bloody from how hard Clarke was biting down in effort not to scream — it was almost too much.

_ Almost _ , because just as Clarke was ready to let go, Lexa stopped all too quickly, her head snapping up, heartfelt tears in her eyes and anxiety clearly weighing on her chest, and Clarke was sure she’d somehow pressured the girl into this, that Lexa was having a panic attack because she felt coerced, or  _ worse _ , and Clarke opened her mouth to apologize, but Lexa beat her to it,

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Clarke’s mouth snapped shut. Confusion, and relief, spread through her — but she pushed those feelings aside. Now knowing Lexa was anxious for a totally different reason than she’d suspected, Clarke nodded, once more taking Lexa’s hair into her strong grip and shoving her back downwards. 

Lexa smiled widely against Clarke’s skin, one hand releasing Clarke’s thigh and coming to join her tongue between Clarke’s legs. Lexa redoubled her efforts, a renewed sense of urgency to finish the job she’d started, and in moments, Clarke let out a final, hoarse cry of Lexa’s name.

* * *

_ Sophomore year, spring semester _

_ Accidental Love Confession _

Clarke never thought  _ she’d _ be a typical U-Haul lesbian, but unfortunately for her pride and ego in always swearing otherwise, it only took two months before the big three words needed to be said. 

From the night Lexa had so heartfeltly asked her to be her girlfriend, Clarke knew that she was doomed. She’d almost typed it out several times in their texts, almost letting the words slip out between sleepy kisses and in postcoital contentedness. But, no; Clarke wanted it to be special. She gave Lexa hell for asking her to be her girlfriend in the absolute least romantic (but most endearing, she had to admit) way possible, so she was determined to say those three important words in a very special way. 

Clarke had it all planned out; she was going to cater a date specifically to Lexa’s liking before saying those important words. First, Clarke would go to the local community library with Lexa for a nice morning of browsing for new books to read. Next, Clarke would take Lexa to the local art museum and they would have a picnic lunch in the attached indoor section of the botanical gardens, courtesy of Clarke’s friendship with an intern there, Maya. Finally, Clarke would take Lexa home and cook her a homemade, romantic candlelit dinner to the soundtrack from  _ Pride and Prejudice _ . Clarke knew her girlfriend thoroughly. She knew how much Lexa enjoyed all of the above, and wanted to give all of those experiences to Lexa to  _ show _ how much she loved her on that special day, too.

Of course, life had other plans for these two girls who, so far, had their relationship wholly defined by accidental occurrences. 

After spending a nice day together lounging on the couch between classes, Clarke had to depart from Lexa’s side for her night class, a four hour long art history lecture. Knowing it was Clarke’s least favorite class (solely because of the length and time, from five to nine in the evening), Lexa would always walk Clarke across campus to the art building in an attempt to cheer her up. Though Clarke was still annoyed by the long, tedious class, she appreciated her girlfriend’s efforts. 

“Well, here I am,” Clarke sighed as they stopped in front of the building. “Don’t forget, I have to cancel lunch tomorrow — some Octavia emergency, but she won’t tell me why she needs me at noon,” Clarke rolled her eyes.

Lexa smiled at her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “Of course. Have fun with her; I’m sure she misses you,” Lexa teased her, keeping her arms around Clarke’s waist.

Clarke smiled, resting her head on Lexa’s shoulder. “I’ll see you Saturday for our date day then, yeah?”

Lexa nodded, finally pulling away. “You know it,” she said, letting her hands squeeze Clarke’s as a final form of contact before the two were to part ways. Of course, Clarke leaned in for one last kiss. “Have a good class, babe,”

Clarke groaned, her hands falling from Lexa’s. “I won’t. I’ll see you later,” she said, beginning to step away. 

“Text me when you get home!” Lexa called after her. 

“Of course,” Clarke said, looking back over her shoulder. “Love you, babe!”

She continued walking for all of three seconds before coming to a complete halt. As soon as the words processed in her own head, Clarke spun on her heels to find her girlfriend staring at her, wide eyed and unmoving.

Clarke’s panicked gaze matched Lexa’s for several long seconds. Lexa looked as though she’d seen a ghost — maybe Clarke, herself, was the ghost, died from the embarrassment of the world’s shittiest first “I Love You” to a partner.

At a loss for words, herself, all Clarke could muster out was a stuttered, “W-well?” as she gestured to Lexa.

Lexa began nodding hastily, both girls stepping towards each other. “I love you, too, of course,” Lexa smiled widely, both hands coming to cradle Clarke’s face in an intimate hold. She pulled Clarke in for another kiss, and Clarke’s arms flew up and around Lexa’s neck, pulling her even closer. 

“Really?” Clarke asked between kisses, only pulling back when tears began to well in her eyes. “It’s not too fast?”

“No,” Lexa shook her head, resting her forehead against Clarke’s.

“Well,” Clarke laughed. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that...I had a whole day planned to tell you,”

“I’m glad you did. This was...perfect.” Lexa’s smile never fell from her lips. “You’re perfect.”

Clarke pulled back, a teasing look sent Lexa’s way. “So you don’t want my fantastic all-day date leading up to me confessing my feelings for you?”

“No, I still do,” Lexa laughed, hands coming to Clarke’s belt loops and pulling her forward. “It sounds like you went through a lot of trouble just to plan how to tell me that. Plus...I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” she mumbled, eyes falling onto Clarke’s lips.

At that, Clarke smiled widely. "I love you, Lexa."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come visit me on @legendofbisexuals on tumblr, too :) Let me know what you think down below or over on tumblr!
> 
> Fun fact; this story is based on my own relationship! I was so happy to see this was a Clexa Week topic, because this whole series of accidents leading to a relationship is actually how my girlfriend and I got together. After a bad breakup, I accidentally ghosted her on Tinder...then she proceeded to accidentally ask me to be her girlfriend during our first time because she got so nervous, and then I proceeded to accidentally drop the big "I love you" bomb before heading to a torturously long night class. So, yeah. Be gentle with this story, it's very close to my heart <3


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